Yours To Hold
by WinchesterSmile
Summary: Clara has never really considered herself an affectionate person. With the Doctor, it's an entirely different story.


A/N: do not own Doctor Who, or these two adorable characters. If I did, they'd be married and the TARDIS would be filled with beautiful brunette babies.

This was inspired by a post on Tumblr. Thank you Mel (mattandjennabakeapie) for the inspiration!

* * *

Clara has never really considered herself an affectionate person. A pat on the back and short, loose hugs are all that she ever gives to friends, and all that she feels comfortable accepting from them. She recalls a time—prior to the death of her mother—when she wasn't like that. Tender hugs and kisses were all too common at home, especially between her and her mother. No matter what the circumstances were, spending time with her always brought Clara a sense of comfort she could never find anywhere else, and though she was not likely to admit it, her mother's hugs were her favorite thing about growing up. But her passing gave way to a life devoid of that comfort, and though she still had her dad, nothing was ever the same in her life. Since then, she lives her life trying to keep people at arm's length, knowing that the mere possibility of losing someone again could tear her in two. She makes an exception, of course, with Artie and Angie, because she knows what it's like to lose a mother, and she remembers the hurt and the suffering that lingers inside a child's heart. So she makes sure to offer them a big, warm hug from time to time, an attempt to offer them the comfort that she knows they need. But other than that, she keeps displays of affection to a minimum. _It's better that way_, she tells herself.

With the Doctor, however, it's an entirely different story. She's not entirely sure what it is about him that unsettles her, makes her forget about her reservations and toss aside years of keeping people at a distance. His affectionate nature is hard to ignore, and she is slowly coming to the realization that she doesn't mind the quiet touches between them. She never has, from the moment they met. When he grabs her hand and threads his fingers with her own, she doesn't have the urge to pull away. When he strokes her cheek, she doesn't feel the need to take a step back and put some distance between them. And when presses a soft and warm kiss to her forehead, she can't and won't deny that her heart beats just a little bit faster that usual. When she's with him, she feels so incredibly at ease with her life, and despite the air of danger that seems to linger around him, she can't deny that his presence at her side feels _right_.

Even now, with him standing beside her in the TARDIS console room, Clara can't find it in herself to walk away. Despite the voice in her head that tells her that all this can only end in pain, she simply refuses to leave him. Instead, she turns her head and watches as he fiddles around with the many knobs and levers before him. He's going on and on about stars and galaxies and time and space, using words and phrases that she doesn't understand, and pressing buttons that have the TARDIS whirling and humming beneath their feet. His body abruptly shifts and then he's facing her, catching her gaze, all smiles and sparkling green eyes. She's unexpectedly hit with such an overwhelming wave of affection towards him—this beautiful, awkward, utterly amazing alien—and she doesn't even think twice about her next move.

Throwing caution out the window, she takes a step towards him and reaches up to place her hands on his shoulders. His movements still and his eyes meet hers in a questioning gaze, but he doesn't speak. Instead, his hands immediately go to her waist, his hold warm and reassuring. It gives her a burst of courage she is unconsciously searching for—and one that only he seems to provide. Raising herself on her tiptoes, she moves her head closer, closes her eyes, and, very gently, nuzzles his nose with her own. The breath he lets out is soft—as feather-light as her eskimo kiss was—and it caresses her face, sending a shiver up her spine. Eyes closed, she stretches a bit more and reaches up to place a quick but delicate kiss on the tip of his nose.

She pulls back immediately, once again standing steadily on her feet and averting her gaze. Seconds pass. Neither of them moves. When she finally gazes up at him, she finds that his eyes have widened and his cheeks have flushed an adorable shade of pink. A smile tugs at her lips, and she can't hold back the giggle that escapes her. Her laughter startles him, bringing him out of his shock and causing a wide grin to spread across his handsome face.

"_Oh Clara_," he sighs. He lets go of her waist, bringing his hands up to gently cradle her face. "_My beautiful, darling Clara_." He strokes her cheek softly, and she feels her throat tighten at the tenderness in his tone. She closes her eyes once more as he leans in, and when his cool lips touch her forehead, she feels her heart beating erratically in her chest, warmth spreading from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and into the very depths of her soul. He doesn't pull away, lips lingering longer than usual, and the comfort, safety, and love that she feels at their touch is something she hasn't felt in years. She doesn't even try to fight her desire to put her arms around him. _He feels like home,_ she realizes with a start, and when his arms go around her, she simply melts into him.

With eyes closed and a smile on her lips, she settles into his embrace. The steady beats of his hearts echoes in her ears and she tightens her hold on him.

She doesn't let go.


End file.
